Aretha Franklin – The Jumper’s mom

I had just walked outside with a basket full of laundry to hang on the clothesline, when the old timer from up the road came roaring up the driveway.  He needed baler twine because he was making some sort of trap to catch the “damn varmint” that was getting into his corn.  I pointed him toward the shed and he stomped off, mumbling about how this was the last time that raccoon was going poach his garden.

I started off toward the clothesline again when a man pulled up and yelled, “Hey, you got white faced cows, right?”

“Yep,” I replied.

“Well, I think you’ve got a loose one,” he said.

Now I was the one mumbling under my breath, because I knew EXACTLY who it was going to be – The Jumper. You think that being stuck in the ceiling would have taught him a lesson, but NOOOOOOOOO.

Clothes basket still in hand, I trotted up to the shed to get the three-wheeler.  The old timer was still rummaging through the scraps of twine and cursing the raccoon.

“Here,” I said, as I pushed the laundry basket into his arms.  “Hold my underwear, I’ve got a cow in the road.”

Up the road I went and there he was – just standing there.  He knew the jig was up.  He sauntered over to the gate, squeezed his way through the opening and trotted back into the field.  I swear I think I heard him laughing at me.